the sound of whirring cameras, straining under the weight of amassed time, sounds out within a poorly rented-out studio. low-budget films being shot, almost uncanny children's shows, and more..
a tired technician, set designer, writer, and more sits behind the camera, knowing this was what he was meant to do; just simply.. work all day, film these lukewarm shows, and nothing else. it was in his contract and debt, after all.
welcome to underlockeandkeys, an independent multimuse oc blog.
" who is this dork, and why should i care about him? "
locked heart- but more commonly known in his human form as locke, is a shapeshifter between a sentient inanimate object and a human, usually residing as his usual human self, yet at times retracting into his smaller object self.
he's got a debt to pay off; and a lot of it, working day and night under his boss, who he is 99% sure is a maniac, and several possible guest appearances from different characters on the set; there's going to be a lot going down here!
chronic coffee-drinker and hater of the job, he's got a major grudge against his boss and a story he doesn't quite feel like telling to anyone, let alone some people he doesn't know. his boss would be elated to tell you, but she's busy setting up the next episode!
here's his toyhouse with extended info!
(muse is an adult, but mun is a minor! keep this in mind!)
" what rules does this set have for today? "
. . no nsfw, mun is 17.
. . flirting/shipping is okay, but don't be surprised if he gets snappy or mad over it.
. . we multiship in this household, but please speak to me abt it beforehand before romancing him!
. . don't m!a him too badly.. i.e; don't get too unrealistic!
. . i will int with anyone who ints with me, as long as they aren't nsfw or unsettle me, the creator. please understand if i don't want to interact at times, i am very easily nervous lol
. . reblog roleplay chains are nice, but they are very cluttered! i'd appreciate several different things such as ask back-and-forths!
" and what's on the menu for us to perform now? "
#. . "technical difficulties.." (ooc)
#. . "stop the show!" (important)
#. . "next episode of.." (casual)
#. . "what do you mean no lunch-break?" (interactions with boss)
more tags to come for fellow muses!
#. . "listen to the audience!" (asks)
#. . "what did you do to the cameras." (m!as (if i get any))
#. . "show gone wrong!" (rp interactions)
#. . "guest actors?" (special guests, usually friends)
have fun! ( banner mask by imjustchillinghere )
special thanks to callum for giving me the courage to make this
so. uhm. guess who nearly broke their foot LOL. thats why i havent been here often: a series of concernin health issues. YOU'LL GET YOUR TIRED WORKER MAN SOON I PROMISE. I'll probably not reply to roleplays as much as I want to put my best quality into em includin art quality.
Entering his room, he would walk along the floor over the entering rug, creaks audible as he was told to find something for his boss. He reaches downward and begins to shuffle through the drawers, he didn't expect it to be so full of junk.
It was hard to find it, considering the fact it was a simple list of items he made a few weeks ago; a catalogue.
As his fingers dig through the drawer, he feels a sharp pain, making him wince and drag his hand out of the drawer, to see a small papercut that was readily bleeding. He was frustrating.
"What the.." He mumbles as he sees the blood quickly dry along his fingers. It was thicker than a normal papercut should be; something was really in there.
He knew he probably shouldn't, but he was extremely curious at this point; what cut his finger? He moves and digs his fingers back into the drawer to find what had wounded him.
He had forgotten about what he was originally getting, instead aiming to simply get whatever had cut his finger. What could it have been?
And he feels it brush against his hand once again, yet not cutting it; It felt old. He grabs onto it by instinct, pulling it out of the drawer to see what it could've been; the source of his mild agitation.
..A picture. He didn't understand who it was of; why did it look like him? Other than the seemingly lazy eye, they looked exactly like him except with straightened and shorter hair. And it was implied someone else was there.. He has no memory of this. Maybe it's just someone else, then. He was too confused to really consider. He doesn't know of that; he didn't remember anything before his homeless days, really.
working on the first of many small peeks of locke's true lore n'all. i was meant ot log on this morning but i forgot which email address i was using. anyways, i have to draw art for this. good luck!!
"Hey, are you okay?" Asks the short-statured female, her voice genuinely concerned for Locke. Despite the other being a total stranger to her. Her question delivered after she notices subtle twitching from Locke. Maybe it was a long day at work? Of course the Gem didn't know for certain.
Locke's eyes seemed unfocused, his hands fidgeting and twitching, he hadn't slept in what- 3 days? He instinctively turns his head at a breakneck pace, before staring at the gem.
"..Oh.. Uhm.. Do I really look that bad?" He chuckles, realizing how his appearance was most likely beyond just a little disheveled, he would quietly move one of his previously fidgeting hands to run through his hair, settling some of it down, as he internally winced at the fact it was thoroughly tangled. He spent a lot of his time in his object form to avoid this happening.
There's the distinct pitter patter one would expect from a shovelware character approaching, growing closer with each passing second. Usually, one be looking for something sweet or a fruit when that sound is heard, but instead you've got Broccoli, notepad in hand. He bounds up, the eraser end of a pencil pointed towards them.
[🥦] "Excuse me! Are you available for an interview?"
[Sent from @everyonesfavoritenotetaker!]
@everyonesfavoritenotetaker
The technician had been simply fixated on repairing one of the broken cameras after one of his fellow cast-members had broken it in order to use the stand in a physical fight- He could still feel the bruise on his head from intervening between two spicy friends of his.. The apologies were enough to him, he figured.
But upon hearing the pitter-patter for the first few seconds, his head perks up.. What the hell was that? He cranes his head backward. "Wha.." He gazes at his eye-level first, then blinks, then looks a bit downward- He was rather taller in his human form, to see.. Oh, another object. He takes a breath in, and sees the piece of broccoli gesturing toward him with the buttend of the pencil, and he took a second to hear him out.
..A what? He physically would've recoiled in shock if not for his usual resistance to random things that happened at all times.
"A.. An interview? You've got the wrong person, pal. This place's where hopes and dreams wither away.. You sure you meant to interview like.. A better studio or something?" He speaks bluntly, yet there is a slight tilt of his head, but he takes a moment, and sighs.
"Alright, alright.. Hold on."
He pauses, and..
"If it's an interview you want, I guess it's an interview you'll get. What's up?"
[🥦] "Great! I've got a few questions prepared, give me just a moment-"
He pauses, before unclipping his mess of papers, shuffling through a few of them before reorganizing them, clipping them back into the clipboard. Clearly he didn't come prepared, but this did seem to be more of a last minute thing- The application for the newspaper that a quota to meet, and he intended on doing so. He'd be writing a different article, but he wasn't getting too far in his research there.
[🥦] "Alright, let's get started."
Broccoli mumbles, pencil to paper, and ready to go. The vegetable scribbles something down preemptively before stopping. He's ready to go, or at least appears to be some semblance of prepared for this interview, thankfully. You'd assume he'd come prepared, but more often than not, he isn't.
He takes another moment, placing the pencil back down by his side before he speaks up again. He probably won't stop asking questions for a little while-
[🥦] "Firstly, might I ask when this whole operation began?"
Locke simply gazes at him, listening and watching his every movement to see how everything seemed to be going. The other seemed genuinely a bit.. How does one put this? Uncoordinated. He crosses his arms and awaits the barrage of questions that he would have no clue at first of how long it'd be.
He seemed glad the vegetable was now ready to go, and so, he's immediately inquired on the first question..
When did this whole thing begin? He wasn't here for the very start of it, but he sure knew he was brought in after a while and a few failures, according to his boss. However- He'd answer to the best of his ability, recalling back to previous conversations he'd had with the others.
"Hm.. Well.." He pauses to think on it again, eyes flitting back and forth between the interviewer and his environment, the rather worn-down set that wasn't being used as of now.
"I believe it was- what, two, three years ago? I was only brought in about a year or so ago, during winter n'all." He was honest, he didn't have much to say, but he was willing to answer some poor journalist's questions. He had nothing better to do.
"..By the way, how did you get in?" He blinks a few times, asking quietly. He was 90% sure the doors were physically broken a bit to the point the locks didn't work from mishaps involving people having intentionally or unintentionally hitting them with their body.
Could Locke kill someone? Probably, depending on what he has on hand. But could he forgive himself?
Absolutely not. Yet deep down, he does have some odd itching for violence, or some blood on his hands, and he has no clue why. He simply sums it up to a lot of basic repressed anger from having to deal with a cast of co-workers that want to rip each other's throats out half the time, and then suddenly are best friends the other half.
He can joke about it, and does so very often. But dear goodness, he would never have it in him to actually commit murder. He thinks about the repercussions, the family, the life they must've had- And so, he judges himself for the thoughts he has.
Well, this moral dilemma of his thoughts being bad has caused him to let his cereal get soggy half the mornings on some of the worse weeks.
Send one of the following keywords for me to write a headcanon about:
Guilt // What actions or decisions do they feel guilty or regretful about? Or is there no sense of guilt whatsoever? What would motivate them to reflect?
Redemption // If they're given an opportunity to redeem themselves, would they take it? Are they redeemable or are they not interested in redemption?
Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress?
Romance // Are they romantically involved with another character? Is it a healthy or toxic relationship? (Feel free to list multiple relationships if available.)
Motivation // What or who motivates them to act the way they do? Could that motivator convince them to change? Who or what else could change their ways?
Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans?
Embrace // Do they fully embrace their moral complexity or do they loathe themselves for it? Can they commit to questionable acts without hesitation?
Excuses // Do they try to defend or excuse their past or current actions? What excuses do they bring up, if they do?
Alignment // Tell us in detail about your muses' alignment compared to how they see themselves. Do Mun & Muse agree on the same alignment?
Principles // Are there certain limits to what they do or don't do? Are there exemptions to their set principles?
Murder // Is it easy for your muse to take lives? Do they feel bad about taking lives or do they kill without remorse?
Failure // What was their biggest mistake or failure? Did it define them in any way or capacity?
There's the distinct pitter patter one would expect from a shovelware character approaching, growing closer with each passing second. Usually, one be looking for something sweet or a fruit when that sound is heard, but instead you've got Broccoli, notepad in hand. He bounds up, the eraser end of a pencil pointed towards them.
[🥦] "Excuse me! Are you available for an interview?"
[Sent from @everyonesfavoritenotetaker!]
@everyonesfavoritenotetaker
The technician had been simply fixated on repairing one of the broken cameras after one of his fellow cast-members had broken it in order to use the stand in a physical fight- He could still feel the bruise on his head from intervening between two spicy friends of his.. The apologies were enough to him, he figured.
But upon hearing the pitter-patter for the first few seconds, his head perks up.. What the hell was that? He cranes his head backward. "Wha.." He gazes at his eye-level first, then blinks, then looks a bit downward- He was rather taller in his human form, to see.. Oh, another object. He takes a breath in, and sees the piece of broccoli gesturing toward him with the buttend of the pencil, and he took a second to hear him out.
..A what? He physically would've recoiled in shock if not for his usual resistance to random things that happened at all times.
"A.. An interview? You've got the wrong person, pal. This place's where hopes and dreams wither away.. You sure you meant to interview like.. A better studio or something?" He speaks bluntly, yet there is a slight tilt of his head, but he takes a moment, and sighs.
"Alright, alright.. Hold on."
He pauses, and..
"If it's an interview you want, I guess it's an interview you'll get. What's up?"
Good morning. Today boss gave me.. A stack of lined paper and told me to write something. I think she's running out of ideas or insane. Probably both, to be honest. When it comes to it, It's really hard to decide what to do. I could just keep.. Posting here infinitely until someone gives me the time of day, or just take a nap.
Either way, I'm not writing. I don't have the mental fortitude to come up with something even mildly creative, even though she can't. (I'm 90% sure we could get sued for copyright infringement depending on what we air.)
I guess we've just gotta find out.
After posting the update, the technician relaxes in his chair, closing the laptop and pushing it further up his room's desk, before staring at the lined paper. He sighs, and faintly smiles, grabbing a mechanical pencil and starting to work on the list of ideas with a possible script.
It was nice to just.. Write something after a long day of nothing but chaos, nearly breaking his foot because a camera or two fell, and mediating arguments.
He hated to admit it, but he loved this group of people. Even if they were annoying.
Never participate in shows that get some of their contestant offerings from craigslist. He was simply signed up to be out of the studio for one day, and now he's in front of an audience of other objects- all of which being food-based. He was not a fan of this.
Some others were there in the audience, like.. Some strange elf who climbed onto the stage, the laptop visibly having 'how to make a pipebomb quick easy' googled on it, the 10 year olds who couldn't answer right for their lives, and the person who straight up collapsed onto the floor after getting too many answers wrong.
How could this get any worse? Now, he's seated back at the studio, a visible bruise forming on his forehead from a comedically large W hitting him after he answered yet another question right. Maybe he shouldn't have won that show. Because now he has a random fish. What was he going to do with a carp..?
special artist credits to @cattlebacc and @calamaririri, thank you two so much!
[ID: A low-quality setting with an orange-yellow background and several podiums, each one reading Amogus, Locke, and Marina. There is a small bacon-hair child behind the first one, the one behind the second one is a short-haired visibly distressed person, and the third person is in front of the podium, on the floor. In the bottom left, there is an elf googling 'how to make a pipe bomb'. /End ID]
A moment passes before Locke answers, a sigh escaping his lips at first. "I am a repairman, thank you for noticing. But I'm also a set designer, script writer, builder, and the one who has to be the mediator in case if any of the other workers cause hell to start being raised."
He tosses the wrench up a few times, spinning each time before he catches it by the handle, something he has learned to do masterfully while bored. Why? Not even he knew. But he knew he could do it.
"All this for the price of nothing, and occasionally a dollar an hour. Great deal, right?" His voice was laced with potent sarcasm, enough to probably kill a fully grown man while he leans on a side-table, some tools laid out messily on the surface.
you said she paid you $1 an hour! is that the same for everyone else?
Locke pauses and sighs, getting out of his seat before responding to the question that rolled in. "Well.. Not exactly, actually." Were the first words to leave his mouth. "I actually live here, in the studio, so that makes up 'most of my pay', apparently. I just think she wants to keep her money to herself.
"The others do get paid, but they don't live here. I live here because I was homeless, and, well, yeah.. I think you can tell what went down from there." He speaks bluntly, not caring if his boss was nearby, wondering about the others.
"But the others are just a few guys, but they cause way too much chaos on set.. I swear, if they break another camera, I'm going to be very disappointed in that lot." He frowns, grasping a wrench that he had been using to conduct repairs on-set today.
